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She quickly adjusted her flare skirt and smiled at me, guilt flickering in her gaze.
“Hey there, honey.” She was struggling to catch her breath as she piled her hair up and clipped it above her head.
I wondered when that man had come in, because I was certain that she had come home alone that night.
That wasn't the first time I caught her in one of those awkward positions with different men, all of whom had no regard for her. She was the grown-up and I was the child, but lately, it was beginning to feel like we had swapped places.
Why couldn't she see that these men were only leading her down a path of destruction? They had been giving her all sorts of stuff to take…especially that white stuff.
My mom was lovely…beautiful…and I used to be proud, because everyone called her pretty back when I used to go to school. I always had the best grades because I wanted her to come pick me up and get praised by my teachers more.
But ever since she started taking that white stuff, the only people who called her pretty gave her white stuff after she did disgusting things for them. I also stopped going to school.
I ignored her and that arrogant boyfriend of hers. Looking closely, I recognized him. He was the one she called Gary, the one whom I had witnessed hitting her. I had tried to intervene, but the beast hit me as well. My mom just didn't want to learn. She was addicted.
“Get your brat back to bed and let's get back to it.”
“Who are you calling ‘brat’?” I glared at him.
“Looks like you want some more of that beating, huh?” He marched toward me, pissed.
My mom intervened and begged him not to hit me, that I was only a kid.
He hissed and pushed her away as he stormed out of the house.
She sighed and slapped her forehead in bewilderment.
“I'm hungry,” I blurted out.
She walked up to me and squatted down to my level. “Listen, honey. I know things are bad, but I promise it'll be over soon.”
“You keep saying that. But it only keeps getting worse!” I snapped, almost losing my temper. “It's all because of that white stuff you keep taking. It's messing with you, Mom.”
She put her head down in shame. “I know, buddy.” She hugged me. “I'll try to stop. I'll try.” She sniffled and wiped her finger over her nose as she rose to her feet.
I knew she was too addicted to stop, so I decided that morning to put an end to all of it.
She spent most of the money she had on that stuff, and that was why we were always so broke and couldn’t buy food. It was why she was always sick no matter how much I took care of her. At first, I had been worried and scared because I loved her so much, but these days I was just so angry…
I had to do something. I had to stop it before that stuff made me hate my mom, or worse, took her from me.
Two days after that talk, I ransacked Mom's room in her absence and found all of the white stuff. I gathered it all and flushed it down the toilet.
When she got home and realized that her stuff wasn't where she hid it, she questioned me. I denied it, but she could see right through my lies.
The next couple of days were bad…so bad. Mom started to go mad. She was always on the phone, yelling and begging amid sobs. She was always shivering in a fever, and her hands were constantly shaking. Her skin was so, so pale, and she even ripped her hair out.
All that time, she couldn't even look at me, nor was she speaking to me. I did my best to help her like I used to when I was younger. Nursing her at night, wiping her face with a wet towel…but it was different this time. She was angry. She was going to hurt me.
It came as a shock when she got off a call one of those days and politely asked me to get dressed. It was the first time she had looked at me since that incident. It was the first time she had spoken to me without yelling.
I did as she instructed, unsure of where we were going. I asked her, but she replied that we were going to see a friend.
She parked in front of a weird building and glanced at me with a sheepish smile.
“What is this place?” I inquired, looking at the building.
She ignored me and said, “Come on, let's go.”
